


Bucket List

by EccentricFangirl777



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Book I'm Writing, Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin are Roommates, Culture, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Basically Plagiarizing Myself for this Fandom, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-27 01:39:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18729094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EccentricFangirl777/pseuds/EccentricFangirl777
Summary: "So what's on the list?" Bellamy asks, reaching for the paper in Clarke's hands, but she tugs it away from his grasp, a mischievous glint in her eyes that flips Bellamy's stomach ten times over."I'm not telling you.""What?! Why not?""Because you, Bellamy Blake, are going to help me complete this list."***Or the Modern AU in which Clarke drags Bellamy around the world so she can complete the bucket list she started with her father.





	Bucket List

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on my original story and my friend was reviewing the first couple chapters for me. When she was done, she just sorta glared over my laptop and said, "This legit sounds like a Bellarke fanfic," and I had a mini-freakout because that was NOT my intention lol.
> 
> But anyways, my friend had the brilliant idea to tweak the written chapters to have a more "Bellarke feel"— Read: 'Switch the original characters' names to Clarke's and Bellamy's'— and oh my god, she was right. 
> 
> The original story I'm currently writing is literally a Bellarke fanfic which is funny because I'D NEVER WRITTEN ONE BEFORE.
> 
> Like my male original character is Filipino and his first name starts with a 'B.' I mean, WOW, how could I not have noticed before?!
> 
> I am so done. 🙄

**2 May, Friday**

Bellamy Blake is busy crying over grading final essays when Clarke barges into the room, eyes alight from lord knows what, and slams his door shut. Refraining from banging his head against the wooden table, Bellamy chooses instead to focus on the paper he's busy painting red and gives her a small grunt in greeting. Clarke walks over to him and peers over his shoulder, and he may or may not be distracted by the subtle floral scent that's coming from her hair as it falls onto his shoulders and—

_Why is she so damn distracting?_

Leaning a little more forward so he's flat on the table and away from all of Clarke's distracting self, he grumbles, "What do you want?"

Clarke, thankfully, straightens out and gives him a funny look. "Give that poor freshman a break, Bell," she says, shaking her head. "God, that looks messier than a Jackson Pollock painting."

Bellamy glances at the stupid paper the freshman had handed in and rolls his eyes. "Hey, it's not my fault the kid's fawning over the 'romantic but tragic story of Cleopatra and Mark Antony' and how it's like an Ancient Egyptian Romeo and Juliet." He can't keep the scorn from his voice and almost rips a hole in the paper in his irritation.

Clarke pauses. "I mean, he or she's not  _wrong_..."

"It's a he and seriously, Clarke? Not you too!"

Clarke laughs and holds up her hands. "Okay, fine, whatever. I'll admit that I'm in the wrong as long as you don't go on a long-ass tirade over history again."

Bellamy looks affronted. "I do  _not_  go on tirades—" 

Clarke holds up her phone and taps it. "I've got basically my entire contact list and our entire friend group ready to disagree with that." Bellamy just sighs, wordlessly accepting defeat, but not before sending Clarke a glare. She shrugs in return. "It is what it is, Bell," she says cheekily over her shoulder as she walks to his couch.

Bellamy grumbles under his breath and turns back to the stack of papers. As much as he loves Clarke— in a completely platonic manner, of course— he still has quite a bit of papers to grade, and right now, he's only on essay #93 out of 225 essays. He hopes that Clarke would be kind enough to not bother him while he finishes—

"Wait, Bell. Why the hell are you grading papers? As in, actual, physical  _papers_? Ever heard of Turnitin?"

—Well then. Seems like he thought it too soon.

" _Clarke_. Jesus. I'm trying to finish this shit so I can have an early summer."

"I'm just saying it'll be easier!"

"Oh my god," Bellamy says, running his hands through his hair, frustrated. "It's not like I have much choice over what the professor wants, Clarke." She gives him an unimpressed look, but there is something in the way that her legs are bouncing up and down that Bellamy realizes that she's distracting him on purpose. "Ugh. Fine, I'm gonna bite. What are you doing here? Don't you have medical school applications to finish?"

"Oh thank goodness," Clarke says dramatically, ignoring his follow-up comment and sorta sounding like Murphy, "I was beginning to think you lost a few brain cells from grading sub-par papers that _obviously_ have no originality."

Bellamy's eyes narrow. "You hang out with Murphy too much. I swear you're beginning to sound like him."

The utter horror and revulsion on her face has him chuckling. "Please.  _Please_  don't say that again. It's scarier than that cake I baked two years ago for Jasper's birthday, and that... that  _thing_  was practically alive!"

Bellamy laughs. "Okay fine. But, seriously, what are you doing here?"

Clarke fidgets, which is something he sees her rarely do, and it has him wondering if there really is something wrong. "Well," she says, drawing out the syllable in a transparent attempt to stall for time. She shuts her mouth, looking way too reserved with the walls within her eyes, and now Bellamy really is becoming worried. "You'd think it's stupid."

Setting down his pen, he gives her a stern look and walks over to the couch to sit next to her. "Hey. No I won't. Tell me. What's up?"

Clarke doesn't say anything, but she does shove her hand in her pant's pocket and pulls out a crumpled wad of paper. He eyes it warily, and he scoots away from her when she begins to wave it around like a madwoman, looking at him expectantly, as if he should know what, exactly, that paper was— which he doesn't, because damn, he isn't a mind-reader.

"So, um, I see paper is what's bothering you," he says slowly, still trying to process what the meaning behind the paper is. "Is that why you were on my ass about paper assignments?"

Clarke throws up her arms. "Why do I even bother with you? No, paper isn't what's bothering me, Bell!"

"Okay, okay, so what is?" Why was she being so goddamn irritable?

"This." She unwraps the crumpled paper and shoves it on his chest. He scans it quickly, noting the boxes on the sides and the messy handwriting of a child's. "It's my bucket list."

Bellamy scratches his head. "I— you interrupted me from grading final essays so you can rant about your bucket list?" When Clarke moves to hit his shoulder, he holds up his hands. "Hey, sorry! I'm just confused." He glances at it again and finally takes note of the large, boxy cursive next to the messy, childish handwriting. It hits him like a bludgeon to the stomach, and he looks up at her, stunned. "The handwriting... is that...?"

She nods tiredly, all of a sudden looking like Atlas, with the weight of the world heavy on her shoulders. "Yeah. It's my father's. I wrote this list with my father."

Jake Griffin was and still is everything to Clarke. Even back then, when Bellamy hated her guts and everything she represented— the privileged upper class born with silver spoons in their mouths— it was clear how much Clarke adored her father. Utterly devoted to him, she would often talk about him like he was the world to her, and whenever she wasn't with Octavia, she was with her father.

 _"She's always at the hospital so she can be with her father, Bell,_ " Aurora would say while she was reprimanding him about being too rude to Clarke. " _She has it harder than you think."_

When Jake Griffin passed away when Clarke was fourteen, succumbing to his second fight with cancer, it seemed like the headstrong, assertive Clarke Griffin that, with all the force of a hurricane barreled into his life, had withered away.

It was then, when Jake Griffin died, that Bellamy realized that he had been too much of an asshole to Clarke Griffin, that he'd judged her too quickly. The realization was in itself painful to swallow, but watching Clarke, who had always been strong even when he hated her, walk around like a zombie was an even more bitter pill to swallow.

It had taken nearly three years for her to recover from the pain and shock, and even then, she'd walked away with emotional scars.

Bellamy quietly wraps his arms around her when the tears escape from her eyes. He wants to say something, to comfort her and take away the pain that she still holds over her father's death, but he knows that sometimes silence is the best answer when it comes to grief. 

Finally, Clarke begins to speak after moments of trying to compose herself. "Dad helped me write this while he was in the hospital. Said that once he was out and free from cancer, we could check off the list one by one.

"When he was cleared for remission, I was  _so_  excited. He'd been in the hospital for years, and I was desperate. I just wanted him to be happy, so I pushed for us to go around Europe for a month. My mom was completely against it." Clarke swallowed, trembling slightly. "I should've listened. When we returned, not even two weeks later, he collapsed. The cancer was back." Bellamy closed his eyes, knowing where the story went from there. "I still think... maybe if I hadn't pushed for that vacation... would my dad still be alive today?"

Bellamy pulled Clarke a bit tighter to his chest. "No. None of that. You know that's not true. It's not your fault, Clarke. If the  _doctor_  couldn't have predicted the cancer coming back, how could you?"

Clarke shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. But whatever the case, this bucket list was a promise between me and my father. Instead of completing it, I just stashed it away like it meant  _nothing_. I just forgot about it Bell. I hid it away because it was too painful for me to remember him, and I  _forgot_ , like I didn't honor his memory. I  _broke that promise we made,_  Bell." The tears return with full force, and she's shaking in his arms, and it takes everything in Bellamy not to cry along with her, so he could be a strong, supporting pillar she could rely on.

"Clarke..."

She angrily wipes away the tears and holds the list in her hands, suddenly resolute, the pain tucked away under her determination. "When I saw this again, I decided that I'm going to hold off on med school apps and complete this list. I'm going to do this for my dad, to keep him alive in my memories forever."

Bellamy can't help but smile.  _There's_  the Clarke that he loves and admires, ready to take on the whole world even with just her fists. Tracing soft circles on her golden hair, he presses a quick kiss to her forehead before asking, "What made you remember it again?"

Annoyance flashes on her face before she huffs petulantly, and it's such a complete flip to her emotions that it almost gives Bellamy whiplash. "I was helping my mom move out to Kane's house," she admits and Bellamy's jaw drops. 

" _What?_ " he shrieks, and Clarke jerks away from him, wincing as she rubs her ears.

"Ow! What the fuck Bell!"

"I'm sorry— did you just say that you helped your  _mother,_  with whom you've always had a strained relationship with, to move out to her fiance's house, who you basically hate?"

"God you're such a drama queen," Clarke says, rolling her eyes heavenward. "You're just as bad as Murphy." Bellamy makes a strangled noise, but she ignores it. "And just for the record, I don't  _hate_  Marcus, okay?" Bellamy stares. "I don't! I  _greatly dislike_ him at the most."

It's Bellamy's turn to roll his eyes. "Uh-huh, sure. But why did you decide to help your mom out of the blue?"

"Umm... maybe because she's my  _mom?_ "

It's his turn to give her a withering look. "You know what I mean."

"Look, Bell, that's not really important." He sends her a look that reeks of how much he disagrees with her, that  _no,_  her voluntarily agreeing to help her mother, who, although Bellamy knows Clarke loves her with all her heart, is still someone Clarke has a hard time talking to, is something that is very much something to talk about. "I found the bucket list while I was shifting through all my old shit in the attic." She caresses the paper, no doubt thinking about her father. "I read it, broke down a bit, and decided that, 'hey, it's never too late to finish this.' And since graduation is literally in two weeks, what better time to finish it, you know?"

Bellamy nods. "So you're thinking of finishing the entire list this summer?"

Clarke snorts. "Oh hell no, it's too long for just one summer. This page right here's the original one, but I added a few more things to the list. Activities, places that I thought my father might like."

"So what's on it?" Bellamy asks, curious, and he reaches for the paper in Clarke's hands, but she holds it away from him, a spark in her eyes that makes his stomach flip both pleasantly and in dread.

"Oh, I'm not telling you," she says, grinning. 

"What?! But why not, I'm your best friend!" Bellamy pouts.

"Exactly," Clarke says, her grin widening with a mischievous edge, and Bellamy is almost blinded by her white teeth had it not been for the slight apprehension and confusion he feels when seeing that grin. Something in her eyes sharpens when she sees the subtle dread, and she pokes his side.

"Because  _you_ , Bellamy Blake, are completing this list with me." 

.

.

.

.

"Oh god,  _p_ _lease_  tell me you're kidding, Griffin."

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! I changed quite a few details so this fic won't be completely copying my original story, but it is essentially the same: character relationships, some parts of the dialogue, and the plot. 
> 
> Am I going to regret this later? Maybe. I mean, again, I am essentially plagiarizing myself and I was hoping to one day publish my original story but oh welllll. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
